Drastic Measures
by M. Sloane
Summary: Ron never really cared... until there was that one girl. So he did something about it. l'extrémité!
1. The Beginning

Drastic Measures

by M. Sloane  
  
A/N: Welcome to my first uploaded fanfic. I hope it's enjoyable. This chapter is, erm, sort of an intro-ish. The next will be out quickly, though I can't say anything about any of the others. Hopefully the bold and italics show up!

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            Ronald Weasley was not "tall, dark, and handsome." Sure, he was tall, and plenty of people thought he was handsome, but he was not the "dark" type, and he never really had whatever it was that made all the girls sigh.  Ron didn't seem to mind, but then again, he was never _really_ trying to get girls to do all that sighing over him.  

            But suddenly, all that changed. If only that _one_ girl, that one special girl, if only _she_ would sigh over him.  Ron didn't know what to do, because he had never really cared before.  So he did something that he thought was rather drastic.

            Ronald Weasley cut his hair.

            **But!** He kicked the normal haircut that his mother gave him out the door, and instead, he went for something different.  Sure, he still wasn't "tall, dark, and handsome."  But he was tall, and plenty of people thought he was handsome. And he had a new haircut.

            If there were such a thing as a "sigh-o-meter," then Ron's sighs would suddenly be off the charts.  Girls took notice of him everywhere, witch _and_ muggle girls, even though he came in very little contact with the muggles.  Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, what a pair they were, the tall, dark, and handsome hero, and his tall, not-so-dark, and handsome sidekick with a haircut.  They turned heads wherever they went, those two did, and not just because one of them had stopped You-Know-Who so long ago.

            The sighs, though, never seemed to come from that _one_ girl, though, and Ron was distressed.  So, not knowing what to do, he did another thing that he thought was quite drastic.

            Ronald Weasley tried out for the quidditch team.

            He not only tried out, he _made_ the quidditch team.  He was also appointed assistant captain to Harry, and took over his job when he was absent.  Though the job was not as glorious as it sounded, as Harry was only missing when he was sick or off fighting some sort of evil wizard, or creature, or whatever, and if Harry was fighting evil, Ron was most likely helping him.  That's what sidekicks do- help the hero.  And Ron was a better sidekick than them all.

            Though the new spot on the quidditch team and the job of assistant captain caught the attention of many, (even stealing some of Draco Malfoy's spotlight), and caught even more sighs, none of it was from the _one_ girl, the one special girl. Very distressed now, Ron did something ever so drastic about it.

            Ronald Weasley attempted to get over her.

            The key word is _attempted_, though, because he _didn't_ get over her.  His drastic decisions had all gone well for him. The hair cut, the quidditch try outs, all ending in good things.  So why was it that Ron couldn't get over her?  Sure, he could have almost any girl he wanted.  But that just reminded him that he couldn't have _her_.  Ron had fallen head over heals in love, and there was nothing his haircut, or quidditch position could do about it.


	2. Quill

Drastic Measures, Chapter Two  
by M. Sloane  
  


A/N:  Not much to say here, except that the other chapters will not be out as quick!

  
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"'Mione?" Ron asked, "Might I borrow a quill?" 

            Hermione looked up at him from a book.  "A quill?  Whatever for?"

            "Erm," he bit his lip. "Homework."

            Hermione laughed.  "You? Homework?"

            "Well, Harry has upped the quidditch practices, and we've got that essay due to McGonagall." Ron told her, earnestly.

            "But the essay is due next Thursday," Hermione pointed out.

            "So?"

            "So?" she said in disbelief, "You've never done an essay early in your life."

            "Do you think I'm not going to give you the quill back or something?" Ron asked, "Because you know I wouldn't do that."

            "Why would I think that you would steal my quill?" Hermione asked.

            "I don't know, I'm just trying to put my finger on why you aren't letting me borrow one," he said, shrugging.

            "I'm just surprised you're doing it early, that's all." She told him.

            "Do you want me to buy it?"

            "_What_?!"

            "Do you want me to buy it?" Ron repeated.  
            "Why would I want you to buy it?" Hermione asked.

            "Well, I just want a quill, and you're going on about how I'm a procrastinator." Ron told her, somewhat icily.

            "We _have_ been going this school for almost seven full years, Ron, I'm happy you're finally learning not to procrastinate." she told him coldly.

            "Hermione, everyone but you procrastinates."

            "I am not the only person in the world that thinks ahead, Ron," Hermione told him.

            "Yes you are."

            "No, I'm not.  Other people think ahead.  Dumbledore and the rest of the professors, Harry, Seamus, Justin! Plenty of others too!" she told him hotly.

            "Harry? Harry procrastinates just as much as _I_ do! And don't get me started with Seamus, he may be worse, I mean, he doesn't even know what he's wri-" Ron stopped abruptly. "Justin?" he asked, "Justin who?"

            "Finch-Fletchley."

            "The Hufflepuff who thought Harry was trying to kill him in Second Year?!"

            "Yes," she told him, "and that was _five_ years ago! He apologized and everything!"

            "So _that's_ who you fancy!" Ron said with a smile, "I'd never suspect. And all along I've thought it was Neville or Seamus."

            "I _do not_ fancy him!" Hermione hissed.

            "Then why'd you mention him, huh?" Ron asked tauntingly.

            "I was just showing example of what a _real_ man is, Ron, cause you are just a boy!"

            Ouch. By then, all of the people in the common room had noticed the raised voices, though they were not surprised as fights between the two became more and more frequent throughout the years. The first years were always warned.  But still, that was a low blow, wasn't it? And in front of all those people!

            "Get a quill from your stupid fan club. God knows they'd simply _die_ for you to talk to them!" Hermione told him, and walked out the portrait hole.

            Ron sighed. _I'd best get a quill from Ginny, at least she wont be batting her eyelashes at me and acting all.... girly._ he thought, and went off to find her.

            As he headed towards the staircase, to look for her on the Marauders Map, a sixth-year stepped in front of him.

            "You can have _my_ quill, Ron," she said with a smile, "and I wouldn't make you pay for it."

            "Thanks," he said dryly, "but I'm getting one from my sister." He headed up the staircase

            "Ron!" she said, grabbing his arm so he wouldn't go up, "um... well... I, um, I was wondering, cause there's a Hogsmede weekend coming up and all, if maybe we could go together?"

            "I'm sorry," _What was her name again?_ "Annabelle, but I can't."

            "Oh," she said, her face falling, "well, maybe some other time."

            "Yeah." Ron told her, and went up the staircase.

            "It's Mirabelle," she told his back.

            _Oops_.

            Ron hated that kind of situation.  He didn't already have a date to Hogsmede, he just didn't want one. Not her, anyway. Hogsmede was time spent with Harry and Hermione, and sometimes Ginny came with them too.  He treasured those moments.  Yeah, he hung out with them at school, but recently the girls, whom Hermione had oh so adoringly dubbed his "fan club" had gotten worse than ever.  Perhaps it had something to do with his being in seventh year, but he didn't really know.

            Ron also hated it when Hermione and him fought.  It happened very frequently, and, well, he was tired of it.  And he always held the grudge, and she called him immature, and it was a never ending spiral of arguments and unhappiness.  Ron was sick and tired of it, he didn't want to fight anymore, or hold grudges, or be unhappy.  So he decided to do something that was incredibly drastic. For him, anyway.  He decided to apologize.

            The Marauder's Map showed Hermione near a tree by the lake, so Ron was off for that spot.  Down the stairs, through the common room (ignoring all its inhabitants, especially Mirabelle), out the portrait hole, then the front hall, down the steps, and towards the tree.  By that time, she was sitting on a bench, kicking her legs and biting her lip.  She had a book, but she wasn't reading it.  Ron picked up the pace.

            Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy got there first.


	3. Blood

Drastic Measures, Chapter 3

by M. Sloane

A/N: Chapter 3! I belted it out, much quicker than I'd expect. Enjoy. Might be subject to change, for reasons. But I'll tell you if that happens.  Oh yes, and I should have said this earlier: a big thanks to Rhi Marzano, who helped me overcome problems with bold and italics not showing up. I think they add a lot to the story, and I'm really glad I was able to make them work! 

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            Upon seeing Draco, Ron stopped dead in his tracks.  _What is that _thing_ doing here?_ he wondered.  He stepped off to the side, behind a few bushes but close enough to hear what was being said.

            "Fancy meeting you here, Granger," Draco said, standing a few feet away from her.

            Hermione looked up at him with an icy glare. "I don't fancy meeting you here, Malfoy. Leave me alone."

            "But what are you doing outside at a time like this? It's Friday evening, shouldn't you be doing your homework?" Malfoy jeered, his eyes laughing.

            "Malfoy, leave me alone," she repeated.

            Ignoring her request, he snatched Hermione's book.  "What's this?" he asked, "just something you're reading?"

            Hermione just gave him an angry look, grabbing for the book.  Malfoy moved it out of her reach.

            "Why so anxious to have it back?  What is it that's so important?" he turned his attention to the book, and his face cracked into an evil grin.  "A diary, eh?  I can read about poor little Miss Granger's secrets and there's nothing she can do about it."

            "Give it back, Malfoy."

            "Or what?" he asked. "What are you going to do for it, Granger?"

            Hermione promptly punched him.

            Malfoy wiped at his mouth and looked at his hand. He was bleeding.  "This is pure blood, Granger."

            "And I suppose your blood has everything to do with anything."

            "It's better blood than you've ever been around," he told her, "Potter's mum was a mudblood, just like you, and Weasley's tainted; an example of good blood gone bad,"

            "I think it's _your_ family that's got that bad blood, Malfoy," Hermione told him.

            Malfoy hit Hermione across the face with the back of his hand.  "Don't you dare insult my family, Granger. A mudblood like you wouldn't know the difference."

            Ron was livid.  He forgot the fact that Malfoy had said that his blood had gone bad. Draco Malfoy had just _hit_ Hermione Granger.  _No one_ - especially _Draco Malfoy_ - could touch her like that, as far as Ron was concerned.  So he did something then that that was pretty drastic. If a teacher saw… who knew what might happen.  He punched Draco Malfoy.

            Perhaps _punched_ is the wrong term to use, and could be substituted with _attacked_ or _jumped on_, because Draco Malfoy didn't know what hit him.  There was a sound of running feet, the orangey-red blur of Ron's hair, and suddenly, **wham**!  The force of impact made Malfoy drop the diary, and he fought back with both hands. 

            "Ronald Weasley, stop that _this instant_!"

            He stopped giving Malfoy a beating at Hermione's call. As he did so, Malfoy, well beaten, stumbled away in the direction from which he had come.  Ron focused on Hermione.

            "Are you alright?" he asked.

            "Of course _I'm_ alright!" she told him, "But are _you_?"

            "I'll live."

            There was an awkward silence for a minute.

            "Here's your book," Ron told Hermione, reaching for the fallen book.  It was open.  He saw quite a bit of his name on the page, and looked to see what for.  Hermione hurriedly took it, but not before he saw _Justin_ also written in her perfect handwriting.  _What's _that_ bloke doing in her diary?_ he wondered.

            "Is that really your diary?" he asked.

            "You were listening?"

            Ron looked down at his feet. "I couldn't help but overhear..."

            "Ron!"

            "Malfoy said it for the world to hear," he pointed out.

            "Only if you were within a few feet!" she returned.

            Ron couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't say anything. Instead he looked at the lake, its surface was sparkling.  The sun was beginning to set, and it was beautiful.  Ron couldn't help but think that it might have been a terribly romantic moment, the sunset, the girl…

            But then again, Hermione wasn't very happy with him, reminding him of one problem:

            The girl wasn't as head-over-heels as he was. In fact, she wasn't at all.

            "What are you doing here, Ron?" she demanded.

            Ron sighed, reminded of her lack of feelings towards him. "I came to apologize."

            "Apologize?" she asked, looking positively bewildered.

            "For upsetting you?" he offered. "In the common room? A bit ago? I asked to borrow your quill?"

            "I know what happened, Ron," she told him.

            He raised an eyebrow in question.

            "I'm just surprised you're apologizing, that's all."

            "Now, don't get started with that again!" he said, exasperated.

            "Get started with what?" she asked.

            Ron sat down on the bench.  "First I'm a procrastinator, now I never apologize…"

            "Well it's true!" she retorted.

            "Can't you just see around that for a moment and be happy that I'm actually doing my homework or apologizing?" he asked, standing up again, the color rising in his face.

            Hermione looked away.

            "Why do you do that, anyway?" Ron demanded, trying to look straight at her, though Hermione was having nothing of it.

            She mumbled something inaudible.

            "What was that?" Ron asked.

            "I _said_," she said, rather loudly, Ron noted, "that it was unintentional."  With that, she turned and walked back into the castle.

            He sat back down on the bench and sighed.  So much for apologizing, and making things right.  He was still unhappy, and he and Hermione were still fighting.

            "Dammit, Ron!" he told himself, putting his head in his hands, "Why the hell do you have to go upsetting her?"  He looked over in the quickly falling darkness, and noticed something on the bench beside him.

            It was Hermione's diary.

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A/N: isn't Draco evil in this chapter? I didn't really like portraying him like that, but, well, its how it went. I'll be writing a fic about him sometime… soon. J


	4. Worth

Drastic Measures, Chapter Four  
bye M. Sloane  
  


A/N: So sorry about the wait… My computer broke, with the almost finished chapter four on it.  Then, I moved. I finally picked up my computer yesterday… I was dying without it. I realize that my family cant live without computers… (well, we could, but you know what I mean) every family member has one, and uses one. My mom _teaches_ people how to use computers. Which is great for finding good deals on great computers. My new CD burner (on my new computer that broke after a week and a half) makes audio cds in, get this, FOUR MINUTES. Haha. Anyway, here yah go.    
Big thanks to everyone who reviewed, too… It inspires. I'm glad people like what I'm writing. Have you ever gotten your first review from a random person? Its like, tingly happiness. Anywho, thanks.

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Ron stormed through the portrait hole.  He grabbed Harry's arm, dragged him up the stairs and threw into the dormitory. Shutting the door, he looked around to see if anyone was in there, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the coast clear.

"Would you mind telling me why you dragged me up here in a huff?" Harry asked, bewildered, as he sat down on his bed.

"I went to apologize to Hermione," he told Harry quickly, "You know, after that row we had down in the common room?"

"You apologized to her?" Harry asked, thoroughly surprised.

Ron glared at him. "Anyway, Malfoy was there."

"What was that prat doing there?"

"I've no idea," Ron replied truthfully, "But anyway, he snatched a book from 'Mione, and she punched him, made him bleed. He went on about how it was pure blood, and how it was the best blood she'd ever be around. Called her a mudblood. But when 'Mione told him that _his_ family had the bad blood, he hit her."

"**_What_**?!" Harry stood up, his fists clenched.

Ron bit his lip, then flashed the smallest smile. "Don't worry. I, er, got a bit mad. Gave him a beating."

"Good," Harry retorted, sitting down again, "The stupid git deserved it."

"She made me stop, you know, when I was really just getting to it," Ron said bitterly. "Malfoy didn't have his bodyguards, an easy target."

Harry looked at his friend quizzically.  "So why am I up here? You could've told me that in the Common Room."

"Right," Ron said with a nod.  He was speaking very quickly now. "back to the story. So I gave 'Mione back her book, but, well, it wasn't a book."

"What do you mean, it wasn't a book?"

Ron bit his lip again. "It was her diary."

"Hermione has a diary?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"Apparently," Ron said with a shrug. "But anyway, we had another row, and she stormed off, and there it was."

"There _what_ was?"

Ron threw a book at him. "This."

Harry opened it, and read the first page. "_Property of Hermione Granger_." He looked at Ron. "Ron, is _this_ her diary?"

Ron scuffed his feet, and looked around worriedly. "Yeah."

"Have you read it?"

"Erm, no," Ron said, slowly. "You know I'd love to, but, well, she'd kill me.  She'll kill me anyway, Harry! If I give it to her, she'll think I've read it, even if I haven't!  But I couldn't just _leave_ it there- anyone could find it! She'd kill me if I left it!" 

"Well," Harry looked at him, "are you _going_ to read it?"

Ron looked down at his hands. "Um, I want to… But I know I shouldn't."

They both looked at the book, which now sat closed on Harry's bed.

_Light bulb_. Or _Lumos_, because Ron didn't take Muggle Studies, and though Hermione was Muggle born, and his father was the head of the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts of the Ministry, Ron still didn't understand the magic of electricity.

"Harry, I've got it!" Ron exclaimed, suddenly looking very excited and proud with himself.

Harry gave him a curious look.

"Well, you read it, and tell me what it says.  Then, if she asks if I read it, it wont be a lie!" Ron said in a rush, flushed by his own brilliance.

Harry thought about it for a while.  "Erm, fine. But only for you."  He reluctantly took the book and opened it near the end.  Flipping forward a few pages, he looked up at Ron.  "I've found her last writing."

Ron bit his lip.  Did he really want to know what Hermione had written _that_ badly?  Then he remembered the _Justin_, written in her perfect handwriting.

"Read it. Tell me what she said."

Ron watched his best friend's face as he read.  Harry's green eyes looked somewhat worried as they went back and forth along the lines.  Ron wondered what he was reading.  He'd know, soon enough, though.  He could wait.  To pass the time, he paced the room, back and forth, back and forth.

After a few moments, Harry shut the book.  Roughly.  Ron could tell that something wasn't right…

"I can't do this, Ron. I'm sorry," he gave his best friend an apologetic look.

"Fine," Ron said, the color rising in his face.  Harry gave him the book, and left.

He looked at the book in his hands.  It was quite small, and plain.  It would look like just another of Hermione's books.  No one would care, because no one cared about Hermione's books anyway.  _She reads too much_, Ron thought with a smile.  Almost anything about Hermione made him smile. He was head over heals for her, after all.

Ron checked the date of the first writing.  It was in their Fifth Year.  The first day of their fifth year, to be exact.  Ron thought back to it; it felt like the distant past.  She had written a lot since then, and yet, the book was so small.  Hermione was clever, though, she'd have thought of a way to make the book have more pages than it looked like.

Two years.  Two and a half, actually.  In that time, had he changed?  Since their Firth Year, when Ron had finally realized and accepted his feelings for Hermione, had he changed?  Sure, his haircut, and the quidditch position, and he had more experience.  But he had matured, hadn't he? He wasn't still a stupid, annoying _boy_, was he?  She sure seemed to think so.

Ron ran a hand through his red hair.  Was it worth it to read it?  If she found out, she might never forgive him. He might lose her trust forever.  And how could, well, _anything_ happen between them if there was no trust?

Ron stared at the book.  _Is it worth it_?


	5. Row

Drastic Measures, Chapter Five: Row

by M. Sloane

A/N: This chapter… did not originally go this way. Someone pointed something very important out to me about it, and I'm glad they did. I think that this is kind of short, because I cut a bit out to change it around (hence the wait, sorry), but most of these chapters have been short.

Dinner went by at a snail's pace.  Ron impatiently prodded his food around, not eating much.  His mouth watered at the sight of the food, (the house elves always kept them satisfied with their meals), but his stomach- which was normally a never-ending pit- was not feeling the same way. 

When Hermione left the table, Ron followed in suit.  Walking briskly, he caught up to her just outside the Great Hall.

"We need to talk," he told her.

"What about?" Hermione asked.

"Just, c'mon," Ron took her arm and walked out of the castle.

"I can walk for myself, thanks," she said icily, jerking her arm out of Ron's grasp.  He breathed an inward sigh of relief when she continued to follow him.

When they arrived at the spot of their last row, Ron stopped. He looked around, and realized it was just as romantic as before.  He hadn't meant to be anywhere romantic, just somewhere alone.  A place where the gossips couldn't stare or whisper, and people wouldn't know about Hermione's diary.  But unfortunately for Ron, there were stars, the moon, and the lake was reflecting the light.  It was, like before, a romantic moment without the important ingredients: _two_ people who are head over heals for each other.  

Shaking his head to banish the thought, Ron handed Hermione the diary. "You left this,"

Hermione's eyes were suddenly wide with horror.  She knew that book.  Everything had gone into it since the beginning of their fifth year.  Secrets, fears, test scores, _everything_.  And she had left it to be found with _Ron Weasley_? A boy who could, and probably would tease her to no end about anything and everything that was written in there?

Her eyes narrowed. "Did you read it?"

Ron looked straight into her eyes and did not blink. "No," he told her.  It was the truth.  He _hadn't_ read the diary.  He had decided it was not worth it to lose her trust because he wanted to read the stupid book. She was worth more than that.

"How can I be sure?" she asked, her eyes still narrowed.

"I don't know, if you're that sure I'm lying you can get a truth potion from Snape," Ron said curtly. "Or better yet, you could make your own! We all know you could!"

"Why wouldn't you read it? You and Harry would _love_ to tease me about anything that might have been in here," Hermione answered shrilly.

Again, while arguing with Hermione, Ron couldn't think of anything to say- so he looked at the lake instead.

"Harry hasn't read it, has he?"

He was **not** expecting that question.

"Er, well…" Ron refused to look straight at Hermione, and continued in a very small voice, "only for a few moments."

"**_WHAT_**?!"

He was definitely afraid of this Hermione.

"**_WHY_** did Harry read my diary?" she demanded.

"Well," Ron rubbed the back of his neck. He was in a bit of a pickle. "He was going to tell me what it said, so if you asked, I wouldn't have read it."

He knew very well that he shouldn't have told her all that, and he knew that she would not be pleased with the information, but for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from saying it. It was as if he couldn't **not** tell her.__

"Ronald Weasley, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

Something in the back of his mind was surprised that Hermione had sworn like that- it was so unlike her- but Ron barely took notice.  He just knew she was mad. _Really, **really**_ mad.

"I cannot believe I would even associate myself with someone like **_you_**!" He winced at the malicious way she said 'you.'

Then, Ron felt a stinging on his cheek.  He slowly brought his hand to it, as his brain just as sluggishly realized what had happened.  He'd been slapped before, but never by Hermione. And that made it much, much worse.

Ron saw her confused look, and from something in it, he just **knew** she couldn't feel the same way about him.  He had been an idiot, and he knew.  And then he saw the _Justin_ in her perfect handwriting on the page in her diary.

Ron sat down on the bench. And as he did so, he felt his heart break into a million pieces.


	6. Boy

Drastic Measures, Chapter Six: Drastic?  
by M. Sloane

A/N: my computer broke, again, which is why it took so long for this chapter. It was waiting, really. I just had to look it over. But then a computer breaks. Again. So, here it is.

There was silence for a long time.

"Ron, I-" Hermione started, but Ron wouldn't let her finish.

"Don't worry, I understand," he told her, blinking furiously. He was **not** going to cry. Not in front of _her_, anyway.

"What's there to understand?" Hermione cried, bewildered.

He stood up. "You've got Justin, you don't need to associate yourself with me anymore. I should have known from when you mentioned him and when I saw his name in your diary," he said softly.

"I thought you hadn't read it?" she asked icily.

"I didn't. I saw his name when I picked it up for you this afternoon," Ron told her, turning.  He walked away, wishing that she would come after him, but she didn't.  She just watched as his shadow faded into the blackness of the Hogwarts grounds.

Ron sat at the roots of a tree.  Deep down, he felt he had known all along. Of course Hermione wouldn't want a guy who was a procrastinator and never apologizes.  _How could I have been so stupid, to think she might feel the same about me?_ Ron asked himself, **_I should have known_**!

He sat there, moping, the moments passing unnoticed as he dwelled on the past few hours.  The look she had given him, the stinging on his face.  But most of all, he thought of the _Justin_, written in her perfect handwriting.

_Harry shouldn't have told that snake off in Second Year, then the stupid bloke wouldn't be stealing 'Mione away from me_. Ron thought, punching the tree.

But Hermione was never his in the first place, Ron realized as he rubbed his stinging knuckles. He punched the tree again, this time making his knuckles bleed, but he didn't care.

"You shouldn't do that, you know," said a soft voice behind him. He looked around, startled.

Hermione. She had come looking for him after all.

"And why not?" Ron asked, bitterly.

She gave him a look as if it was obvious. "You're bleeding."

"I'll live."

Hermione looked nervous.  Something in Ron was glad to see her fidget, to see her uncomfortable.  She clutched her robes tighter about herself in the frigid night air. It was cold, but Ron didn't notice.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Ron said scathingly, wishing she would just **go away** because he really didn't want her around to remind him of certain feelings that weren't mutual.

"Er, well, it's cold," she said, lamely.  Quickly, she added, "and we shouldn't be out, now, it's too late."

"You can go," he told her, "but I'm not."

"And why not?" she asked, mimicking his tone from earlier.

He looked up at her, the piercing glare in his eyes fixing her gaze. "Does it matter?" he asked. Before she could answer, though, he continued, "Why don't you find _Justin_, I'm sure he wouldn't mind spending more time with you this evening."

"Ron!" she screeched, "I **do not** fancy Justin!"

"Oh, of course you don't!" he assured her, his voice dripping with sarcasm

Suddenly, she was screaming, telling him off.  Ron looked like every word was branding a permanent mark on his brain.  Even though she was shorter, she towered above him and he just stared at her, appearing and feeling very afraid for his life.

But in truth, Ron heard very little of what Hermione was telling him.  _Hermione is yelling at me_, he thought. _I wish we didn't fight so much_.

So, what might make them stop fighting?  He searched for something to calm her down, to make her stop yelling. She wasn't as pretty when she yelled. And while he was still head over heels for her, scary Hermione was _not_ the kind of girl he liked.  He looked in his head, for something… sweet? No. Something… nice? No. Something… funny? No. Something…

…drastic?

Drastic. The drastic thing might work for him.  Those seemed to work, when they had to do with Hermione, anyway, except when it came to getting over her.

_Drastic, drastic, drastic, drastic…_ Ron thought, _What in bloody hell might be drastic enough to stop her screaming?_

He then realized that drastic things just weren't really his forte- his specialty. Yeah, haircut. Big deal. His problem was, he couldn't _think_ of anything drastic. So he did the only thing he _could_ think of.

He kissed her.

Something he had wanted to do- and been thinking of doing- for a long time.  Hermione went rigid, and Ron's heart fell.  He began to pull away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back.

Two years (two and a half, really) of pent up passion, desire, and love came flooding out in that kiss.

All in all, it was really quite something.

Ron knew he had been wrong before, about her not feeling the same.  And he knew that to Hermione he wasn't a boy with a haircut, and a position on the quidditch team.  He was just Ron, and that was all she needed.

the end

A/N: this turned out a lot fluffier than I originally planned. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Soon I'll be posting my next fic, which is about Hermione and Fred. Currently in the works, but it'll be out soon, cause I wrote most of it on a plane.


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